


Epilogue

by Hobbyist_Writer



Series: Exception Verse [7]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:23:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbyist_Writer/pseuds/Hobbyist_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Guardians of Childhood are used to their charges slowly loosing belief in them as they grow older. But! Sometimes...sometimes there are exceptions. The Guardians (and one villain) say good bye to one particularly exceptional exception.</p><p>Cross-posted from Fanfiction.net (under the title "Exception Verse, this would be Chapter 7)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the end. For real this time. This collection of one-shots reach their finale in this last installment of the Exception Verse.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> (Chronological timeline of events are in the End Notes.)

There is a little house with a wide open porch that everyone in a not-so-little town knew. The town used to be smaller but as years passed it had grown into the large, but still tight-knit community of today. Residents have lived and moved and died; buildings, old and new, were built and demolished and rebuilt, but some things remained the same. The town still nestled on the outskirts of a large, and now older, forest. Children still played beneath the forest’s trees.

One other thing remained the same: the little house on the hill, slightly more distant from its neighbors. Everyone knew that house…more precisely, everyone knew _who_ lived there.

 _Grandmamma,_ the townspeople called her. From the youngest child to the older parents, they all called her so. Of course, she wasn’t the grandmother of everyone in town. But because she was so very old, and because she knew most everyone in town—had known them since they were still toddling about even—everyone called her grandmamma.

She didn’t mind. Grandmamma always had room in her heart for one more child. It was never a bad time to come and visit her. Even at her age, Grandmamma was still energetic and as spry as could be expected. She shared stories and cookies and other goodies with a generosity that made her a favorite of every kid in town—and made parents laugh good-naturedly until she reminded them that they used to be just like their children and don’t think she’d let them forget what mischievous kids _they_ used to be!

So for all that her house was a little farther away from the center of town than was considered normal, the old lady didn’t want for visitors. Aside from the towns-children who loved to run up the path that led to her house after classes for a story and a bit of a snack, her family also made sure to come by. Though her own husband had passed away years before, her daughter and her grandchild visited regularly.

And during those hours where the children couldn’t come or those days when her family couldn’t visit, Grandmamma had _other_ visitors. Except, these visitors didn’t call her grandmamma, instead they called her _Story Teller,_ and these visitors weren’t exactly _human_.

The denizens of the Spirit World loved the Story Teller. She never stopped believing in them, even up to this day when she was old, wrinkled and gray. And! She spread belief about them to the other children. Those children grew up and forgot about the Guardians and other spirits but always more children came, and she would tell those children stories and _they_ would believe and the cycle would begin again.

So she really never wanted for company.

As the Story Teller grew older, she preferred to stay near her house and let those who wanted to see her visit. But, sometimes, she could be enticed to go a bit further away. Today was once such day.

It was a bright, winter day. The ground was covered in several inches of snow, just the right kind for snowballs, snowmen and snow angels. It wasn’t surprising to see all the towns-children and their parents outside enjoying the day. Forts were constructed, snowballs were thrown through the air, impacting on combatant and non-combatant alike, and figures skated around and around the frozen pond.

It was a sizeable pond, almost a small lake, and in one out-of-the-way nook three generations of women skated peacefully.

The youngest was barely three and just learning to ice-skate. Her mother, an accomplished skater due to years of experience, demonstrated a simple jump.

“Again! Again!” her daughter cheered, clapping her hands in glee. The little girl nearly fell over, she was so excited, but the third in their group managed to steady her in time.

“That was lovely, my dear.” The old lady said, she was the child’s grandmother and the other woman was her daughter.

“Just the way you taught me, mama.”

The child’s eyes widened, “ _You_ taught mama, grandmamma? Me too! Me too!”

The grandmother laughed, “You will learn, darling, in time. Your mother will teach you, just as I taught her.”

“Grandmamma jump! Grandmamma jump!”

“Oh no! Grandmamma’s much too old for jumping and spinning on ice!”

Fortunately for the old woman, a welcome distraction came in the form of a lively Winter Spirit by the name of Jack Frost.

“Jack! Jack!” her granddaughter exclaimed, pointing at the lithe Guardian.

“Hey Kiddo!” Jack greeted the young girl, “What are my favorite ladies up to?”

“Mama, mama! It’s Jack Frost!”

The younger adult smiled indulgently, “Of course it is, dear.”

Jack Frost exchanged bitter-sweet looks with the older woman. Her daughter had held on to her belief well into her teens but lost the ability to see the Guardians and other spirits when she turned twenty. Jack missed his playmate and still held onto the hope that she’d be able to see him again…after all, her mother still could.

“Jump! Jump!” the child requested excitedly, then remembered lessons still being taught, “Pweese?”

Jack lets out a sparkling laugh and obliges the child. It doesn’t take much for the lithe frost spirit to leap and spin in the air. The Wind, the forever-child’s constant friend, held him up and spun him wildly. He was gently deposited on the ice and as soon as his feet hit the ground, Jack bowed to his audience, low and deep and as flamboyant as his nature.

“Grandma’s turn! Grandma’s turn!!”

A mischievous light lit Jack’s eyes. He held out his hand to the old woman, to his eldest believer.

“Fly with me!” he laughed, joyful and bright.

How could she resist? When called by Winter’s Child, she could never be too old. Her hands were wrinkled and shook slightly but her grip on the Winter Spirit’s pale hand was firm.

Human and spirit took the position they danced in so many times before. Right hands clasped together, he slightly behind her with his free hand securely gripping her waist.

“Ready?” he breathed.

“Yes.” She whispered back.

The young mother noticed them…noticed _her_ because she could not see Jack supporting his believer. All she saw was her _old, old_ mother preparing to leap off the ice and into the air.

“M-mother! Don’t—!”

But she was too far, too slow. Spirit and human leapt into the air. Jack lifted her up, and spun her in the Wind, who was all-too eager to help. The Story Teller laughed, bright and clear; and suddenly it was as if she were ten, twenty, years younger and nothing, _nothing_ , could hold her back, could stop her.

Again and again, the ageless child and the adult who never forgot danced and spun, jumped and glided across the expanse of ice that was just theirs for that sparkling, endless moment of time.

Something urged the pair to even greater heights, as if they both knew that this would be the last time—their last time to laugh and play and dance like this. One last leap. One last spin. One last toss. This time Jack did not rise into the air with her. He threw her up, and gave her into the embrace of the Wind, who caught her and sent her even higher, spinning in a glorious expression of pure Joy.

But the Story Teller was only human and humans cannot fly. The earth tugged at her, gravity pulled her back down, but Jack was there to catch her and set her gently back on her feet.

They were mobbed by the other two females. The elder harried and disbelieving of what she just witnessed, the younger ecstatic at the display.

“Are you okay? What in the world possessed you to try that?” the young mother demanded. Her hands fluttered over the old woman, she needed the touch to reassure herself that her mother was there, whole and apparently unharmed by her dare-devil stunt.

“My turn, Jack, my turn!” the child pleaded, “Pwetty pweese?”

“Maybe next time, kiddo.” Jack told her. Normally he wouldn’t hesitate. The child would be safe with him but her mother was there and magic could only do so much to hide their presence from non-believers.

“Jack?” the woman mutters, as if remembering something long forgotten, “Jack Frost?”

Jack’s eyes widen. Would she? Would the Story Teller’s daughter remember him?

“Jack Frost.” She repeated, staring right at the Winter Spirit, “You’re Jack Frost… You used to play with me when I was little.”

“Mama!” her daughter squealed, “It’s Jack! Jack! He’s here!! He helped Grandmamma fwy!”

“You can see me?” Jack asked, hoping against hope, “You remember me?”

“I do.” She said, “Forgive me for ever forgetting you?”

“She sees me!!” Jack crowed, leaping right up to his former-and-now-not-former believer. His hands found hers and they spun around and around, joyous in their reunion.

Grandmother and granddaughter watched the spectacle with smiles on their faces. Then that bright, crystalline moment of happiness shatters.

The old woman suddenly recalled her age when her heart skipped a beat, then another. Her vision wavered and her knees shook, abruptly unable to carry her weight. She fell, slowly and quietly, a gradual sinking to the icy surface of the lake. The sound her collapse made went unnoticed by the rejoicing couple just a few feet away. It was the terrified, heart-broken cry of the child that alerted the other two.

~ o ~ o ~ o ~

The next few hours were a blur. The paramedics didn’t tell them anything that they didn’t already know. Grandmamma was old. She’d lived a full, long life. It was her time.

Grandmamma had one request…well, two, but the second one was for non-human ears.

_Let me die at home…in my own bed. Let me go home._

So they went.

The second request wasn’t as coherent. Her daughter didn’t know who the ‘protector’ her mother spoke of. Jack didn’t know any spirit who was called that. But she was so adamant that her protector would come that they couldn’t bear to dissuade her.

 _Please_ her daughter had begged the Guardian of Fun, _please, please do this for her. If she could just say good bye… It_ must _be one of you—the one she calls her protector._

So Jack stood outside in the snow. He knew that if his heart grieved for the approaching loss of one of their brightest lights, then the others would be just as sad. They deserved a chance to say good bye. Hopefully, one of the other Guardians was their beloved exception’s protector. Jack only knew that it was not him.

Four winged shapes took form before the Guardian. Crafted from snow and ice, given life from his magic and breath, the ice-birds took wing. Each one headed for a different Guardian. They would deliver Jack’s message. The Guardians would come. Jack hoped it would be soon enough.

In the icy reaches of the North Pole, Santa Claus jerked away from the toy he was working on at the cry of the icy raptor that hovered outside his window. He recognized the bird as one of Jack’s creatures. It opened its beak and Jack’s voice, desperate and heavy with emotion, echoes in the room: _Come right away. It’s_ her _. She’s…dying._

A heavy weight dropped onto North’s chest. Has it truly been so long? Was their exception’s time at its end?

At the other end of the globe, the snow white hawk was seen instantly. Its glistening feathers sticking out like a sore thumb among the greens and soft pastels of the Easter Bunny’s Warren. Bunny was used to receiving similar messages from his fellow Guardian by now and it didn’t take long for the ice-bird to land on an outstretched paw and deliver its frantic message.

Within seconds, Bunny was rushing through a familiar tunnel, hoping against hope that he’d be fast enough…

The third ice-bird flew to the tropics where the Tooth Fairy’s castle was located. It shot past tiny fairies, unheeding of their irate cries and scolding. Toothiana, alerted by the outcries of her mini-fairies, came out to see what the ruckus was about. All thoughts of scolding the Winter Shepherd for disrupting her fairies left Toothiana when she heard his news.

The short message hadn’t reached its end but Toothiana was already flying as fast as her wings would take her.

The Sandman never really stayed in one place for too long, not even in his sand castle on his island. So the last of Jack’s constructs found its intended recipient relatively later than the previous three. But find the Sandman it did, and its message was delivered. Like his fellow Guardians, Sandy immediately packed up what he was doing and left for the Story Teller’s residence. Unlike the others, he remembered one other spirit who probably had the most right to be at their exception’s side when she passed.

So, instead of going straight to the cottage where the others were headed, Sandy went the other way. There was a dark spirit he had to find…

~ o ~ o ~ o ~

It was the shadows that gave him away.

Four of the five Guardians of Childhood were huddled together in one corner of the Story Teller’s bedroom. Somehow, they and the two human family members managed to cram themselves into the sleeping quarters of the withered old lady, lying on her bed. The humans gathered close to the old lady. The child already on the bed and curled up as close as possible to her beloved grandmother. The young mother fought tears back and held on tight to her mother’s hand.

But the being hidden in the gathering darkness had eyes only for her—she who listlessly lay there, a puppet with cut strings. Suddenly she looked so very small…

Something hurt, deep in his chest, and it made him angry. What was this foreign thing inside of him? Why did he feel like lashing out at everything outside, like screaming all his pain, his anguish, to the dark night? He felt the burning _need_ to make everyone and anyone feel what he felt. What right had they? How could they be laughing and happy, still be filled with wonder and dreams and _hope_ , when here his beloved—when had she become beloved?—was _dying_? And he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

The shadows reacted. They rippled, swelled and covered everything within the little home. They surrounded the Guardians, pushed them away to clear a path for their master.

Their reactions were priceless. Maybe some other day, he would have been pleased, triumphant even, but not today. Here and now, he only had eyes for one person. And she was not one of the Guardians. There was no time. He would not waste even a second on those idiots.

“Pitch!” they exclaimed. Various levels of shock, anger, what-have-you. Pitch didn’t care. His shadows would keep the imbeciles occupied. They would not stop him from this final meeting.

The young woman rises, fear writ large on her face. Ah, _she_ never truly forgot him. Pitch was her monster for too long, was too large and terrifying a fear to be easily forgotten. And here? When she’d just opened her mind to _believing_ again? She could see him…and she was afraid.

Pitch is proud, really. Normally, he’d enjoy the fact that his work payed off so well. _His_ child’s daughter never had to fear the kind of monsters her mother feared. Pitch was her monster and he kept her safe from much more dangerous ones. But _there was_ no _time._ And, though Pitch liked her well enough, she was not _his_ girl.

She was afraid but she put herself between her family and him. Brave but foolish. And he just didn’t have _time!_

“Shh…” her mother soothed. The old woman reached up to touch her daughter’s arm, “It’s fine. I’m glad he’s here.”

“Whaa—? But he’s—” the daughter spluttered.

But he’d already swept past her to loom oppressively over the invalid’s bed. His face betrayed no emotion but his hands were clenched into tight, bone white, fists. The shadows moved, reached towards the old woman, receded, and reached again.

“Child.” He finally said, after staring at each other for indeterminate length of time.

His child smiled at him, “Hey Mr. Boogieman,” she said softly, “Looks like I won’t be your girl for much longer.”

Pitch’s nostrils flared, the shadows lashed angrily in response.

“No.”

“I want to introduce you to someone…” she told him, her words came slowly, haltingly, “You’ve seen her, of course, but she’s never met you like this before…”

She tugged at her grandchild, weakly trying to present her to Pitch Black.

“Granddaughter,” she said, “This is Pitch Black. He’s going to protect you from now on. Pitch. Protect her for me please? Let her be your girl, like I was yours, until you find your daughter again.”

Pitch picked the child up, cradled her in his arms, and, like her grandmother before her, the child nestled her little head against his chest.

The Nightmare King looked down at his girl. She was propped upright with pillows. There was no more strength in her to even sit up on her own. But that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that she was old, wrinkled and gray. She was his girl, now and forever. And for his girl, he would do anything.

“For you.” He told his girl, “I will.”

The old woman sighed and what strength she had left seemed to leave her. Her task was complete. Her protector wouldn’t be alone. He had a new girl to take care of. She didn’t see the Boogieman calmly hand the child to her frightened mother. She didn’t hear the Guardians whisper furiously among themselves. She was tired and cold—perhaps, she thought, it wouldn’t be so bad to sleep now…

Then familiar gray hands lifted her up and drew her into a warm embrace. Pitch held her close, tight against his chest. She looked up at him and wondered at the shiny film that glazed across his silver-gold eyes.

“You are my girl. Then, now, and until forever.” He told her, trying to be dark and menacing, but failing in the presence of his girl, “…sleep, child, for I am here and nothing can harm you now.”

She smiled, happy and content, “…and you’ll hold me…”

“I will hold you…”

“…this one last time…”

Pitch’s voice hitched and wavered but he finished their old promise, “…just this one…last…time…”

The night was cold and dark outside. Shadows deepened and seemed to move of their own accord. Their master grieved and the darkness lashed out at the world for hurting their prince. And inside a little cottage by the borders of the old forest, the Nightmare King held his fearless believer and wished with all his might that there would be another night, another time when he could hold her close and keep her from all harm.

“…good bye…”

 

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline of Events:  
> Part 6: Pitch Black (1st & 2nd meetings)  
> Part 5: Sanderson Mansnooze  
> Part 6: Pitch Black (3rd & 4th meetings)  
> Part 3: E. Aster Bunnymund  
> Part 6: Pitch Black (5th meeting)  
> Part 4: Toothiana  
> Part 2: Nicholas St. North  
> Part 1: Jack Frost  
> Part 6: Pitch Black (+1 meeting)  
> Part 7: Epilogue


End file.
